My Sins Laid Open to the Rod

My sins laid op­en to the rod

The back which from the law was free;

And the eter­nal Son of God

Received the stripes once due to me.

No beam was in His eye

nor mote

Nor laid to Him was any blame;

And yet His cheeks for me were smote—

The cheeks that nev­er blushed for shame.

I pierced those sac­red hands and feet

That nev­er touched or walked in sin;

I broke the heart that on­ly beat

The souls of sin­ful men to win.

That sponge of vi­ne­gar and gall

Was placed by me up­on His tongue;

And when de­ri­sion mocked His call

I stood that mock­ing crowd among.

And yet His blood was shed for me

To be of sin the dou­ble cure;

And balm there flows from Cal­va­ry’s tree

That heals my guilt and makes me pure.